


The Illusionist

by magnificentmay



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past, Revelations, Tw: pedophilia, the author made up the vast majority of this shit, tw: attempted rape of a minor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:36:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentmay/pseuds/magnificentmay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliens, clowns, robots, mutants, scarecrows, and crocodiles--there isn't much the Bats haven't faced.  But there is a lot that they've missed while saving the world, especially when it comes to the current Robin.</p><p>(Check the Notes at the top of each chapter for trigger warnings.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Any heat signatures, Proxy?" Robin swore she heard someone calling to her from inside the Monarch Theatre. 

She wasn't stupid, she knew what this place was, what it meant to Batman. So she wasn't going to bust the door down and walk into a trap. It had to be a trap, the sound of a woman calling "Robin."

But, on the off chance (the way off chance) that this was someone who needed her help, she stuck around, but in the shadows. 

It was the fact that the woman was calling for Robin that made her suspicious. Batman purposefully made them (Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood) take routes at random so that no one could memorize their schedules and predict where they would be. And Robin couldn't see anyone through any of the windows, and, though that didn't mean they hadn't seen her, she found it unlikely they had. They knew she was coming, more likely. 

Proxy's gravelly voice replied over the wire, "Yeah, one in the auditorium. It looks like they're... pacing?"

"Thanks, bae. I'm going in."

"That's not a good idea, R. We don't know which one that is."

Robin snorted. Proxy thought it was a trap, too. She and Proxy (and Babs, but Babs was being a bitch right now) were generally always on the same page. 

"Well, let's narrow it down. Find out where the big swigs are. Where's Joker?"

"Arkham."

"Bane?"

"Blackgate."

"Seriously? Why isn't he in Arkham?" 

"Well behaved when on drugs."

"Fantastic. Make sure B knows about that."

"Will do."

"Black Mask?" Robin still felt that chilling stutter in her chest, over two years later. She would always have that, she supposed. It was stupid and irrational. 

Actually, given the criminal track record for Gotham, it could easily happen again tomorrow. 

"Arkham. So's Ivy and Croc. And Penguin."

Robin cocked an eyebrow, even though there was no one around to see it. "Why don't you check Penguin again?"

Proxy began clacking away and the keyboard and began to say "why," but stopped short upon finding the page Robin asked for. "He's out again, I guess, No arrest records either. Damn." 

"Yeah," Robin dismissively replied, "he's slippery like that."

"If it's none of them, who is it?" 

"Where's Harleen?" Robin asked instantly. 

"Erm..." the clacking of keys came over the wire, "Quinzel... No idea. She's not in Arkham."

Robin huffed. It actually angered her how little attention they gave the former psychologist at the ward. "Harley Quinn" really wasn't bad. Sure, Bruce and Dick might disagree, but, all things considered (and by "all things," she meant versus the rest of the loons), Harley was a saint. More or less. Given the right treatment, she could potentially be healed... yeah, that was wistful thinking, but this Robin was nothing if not hopeful.

"They let her out? Again? Who lets those idiots run that place? They wouldn't know a sick person if they... you know—"

"—were doctors in charge of their healing and welfare?"

"Bingo. Well, it's Harleen. Probably. So I'm going in." 

"R." There was warning in her tone. 

"Relax, she loves me. Seriously, she loves me, and I have no idea why. She used to break out of Arkham to grab coffee with me. She'd even go back willingly afterward."

"Whatever. But if anything's off—"

"I'll get the hell outta there."

~

Dick wasn't sure how he had done it, but Bruce had managed to get all of his sons under one roof. It was miracle that hadn't happened in five months at least. It was another miracle that nobody was fighting, which hadn't happened in over a year. 

"What are you doing?" Damian looked over Tim's shoulder at the laptop screen. They were both in Tim's room. Tim had been typing for going-on ten hours nonstop, and Damian had been reading a book on his bed. 

"Work." Tim replied shortly, not looking away from the screen. "And I'm really behind, so can you go away?"

Hurt shone visibly on the (technically, he was still ten) eleven-year-old's round face, and he backed away. "Oh... okay."

Dick frowned deeply. Tim and Damian's relationship had always been rocky, but Damian was making strides to try and fix things between them ever since he... came back. From the dead. And Tim was being difficult for no understandable reason. 

Actually, Tim had been very off lately. He was always working, almost never going out on patrol. Dick figured he was going out more than they knew about, but he wasn't checking in with either Batman or Nightwing. And he avoided the Manor like the plague. It had gotten to the point where Jason was spending more time at the Manor than Tim. Along-with, Tim was short with everyone, and it was getting old real quick. 

"Why don't you put the computer up, for, like, ten minutes?" Dick made his presence known and leaned against the doorframe. "Jason and I have been waiting for you to start the movie."

"I told you to give me fifteen minutes—"

"—two hours ago." Dick interrupted. Damian was in the process of leaving, but his former partner was in the way. 

"Wha..." Tim looked at the clock. 

Oh. 

"Hey, Dami, go wait for me and Tim in the media room," Dick nudged the youngest Wayne's shoulder, and the boy obeyed.

Tim closed the laptop and fought back a sigh. He already knew there was no way out of having the impending talk. 

Dick sat down on the bed across from Tim. "Be nice to Damian."

"I'm not being mean to him."

If Dick was one for growling, he would have growled. "He spent the entire day trying to spend time with you. And you ignored him then cut him off."

Tim stared blankly. He... hadn't noticed. "I-I didn't realize—"

"—of course you didn't!" Dick snapped, causing Tim to jump. His voice sounded eerily like Bruce's reprimanding voice. "Because you're always in that damn laptop! What's the matter with you lately?"

Tim fought back the shiver that ran up his spine. He hated this; he hated how much just getting yelled at by his big brother affected him. 

"Hey, Dickie-Face, give it a rest." Damian had gone and tattled on Dick to Jason. Maybe the kid did really care about him. "Come on Timmy, we've got a movie to fall asleep halfway through."

Tim stood quickly and power-walked away from his older brothers (Dick, really) and into the media room. If he'd walked a little slower, he'd hear Jason tell Dick to lay off him.

Tim curled up on the smaller of the couches. It surprised him when Damian plopped down next to him, even with the other empty couch and chairs in the room. He had a giant bowl filled with a ridiculous amount of popcorn. That's not to say they weren't going to eat all of it. 

"Hey, Damian?" Tim ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd always had. "I'm sorry about today, and... you know... I-I wasn't trying to ignore you. I was distracted..."

Damian felt terrible for his older (and technically only) brother as he rambled through his apology. He got it, Tim was distracted. And he hadn't been eating. And he hadn't been sleeping. Tim didn't even have a place to sleep; he sold his apartment two months ago. Damian found out, but he hadn't told anyone yet. Tim wouldn't have wanted him to. And Tim was too tired to have Dick yelling at him.

"It's okay, Dra-Tim." He scooted closer, hoping Tim wouldn't notice and kind of hoping he would. "Popcorn?" 

~

The extremely uneasy feeling returned as Robin found the door to the Monarch unlocked. Nobody leaves the doors to an abandoned, decrepit movie theatre unlocked. 

On an inhale, she walked through the door, dropping into a crouch and glancing across the room. Other than an emptied concessions stand, some overturned benches, and thirty-year-old movie posters still hanging in their glass, the room was deserted. 

Proxy said the heat signature was in the auditorium, though, so that's where Robin headed, mildewed carpet making an unappealing crunching sound under her tactical boots.

Robin pulled back the heavy (and stinking) velvet curtain, surprised to find the front of the auditorium lit by two camping lanterns. A tall, thin woman was, as Proxy predicted, pacing in front of the (remaining) seats. 

"Harleen?" As a rule, she referred to the former psychologist by her full name.

Harley's eyes shot to the doorway. "Robin! I was worried you hadn't heard me."

"Nah. Are yo—"

"I'm alone!"

Robin started toward her, smirking. "I was gonna ask if you were okay, but you got my second question."

Harley laughed nervously, but rushed over to greet her favorite Robin with a hug. Awe, she was worried for her. "I'm glad you're here. There's something, or somebody, really, that you need to know about."

"Okay," Robin said, returning the embrace, "but first, when did you get released from Arkham?" She took a step back, looking Harley in the face. "You did get released, right? Because we talked about this."

The older woman grinned. She really did like the girl; she actually cared about her, and it was so endearing. She was so glad she didn't let Joker kill her. It was nostalgic seeing her back in the Robin costume. "I was released. Not that those useless motherfuckers really helped any."

"You're more sane than usual." She was okay to say that, because she was genuine about it. Not that it ever bothered Harley to be called crazy; she knew she was. She used to date the Joker.

"I'm self-medicating."

"Oh. It's working." And it was. The grey tint the woman had acquired from her "fall" at Ace Chemicals was shifting to an almost normal tone, and the two tone colors in her hair had faded to two different shades of purpley-gray, and were blonde at the roots. Her blue eyes shone brightly with awareness.

"Yeah, it makes running my operation, like, fifty-billion times easier, but way more boring."

"Harleen."

"Relax, Robin," she giggled. "I'm keeping it all in Hood's territory; Batsy won't have to deal with me."

"Hood's joined up with the Bats. You hadn't heard?"

"I hadn't. Well, shit, that throws a wrench in my plans." She crossed her arms, pulling a face as she thought. "Wait—what about Batman's 'no killing' thing, because Hood definitely kills, like, I saw him chunk a guy off the bridge right before I—never mind. Don't answer that. That's not why we're here."

Robin purposely ignored the bit about the Red Hood. No killings in the last nine months, at least. 'Reported killings,' a voice in her head that sounded eerily like Tim's decided to remind her. "Right. Why are we here?"

"There's a new player in our game," Harley told her, tone far more serious than Robin could have expected. "And his abilities are nothing you Bats and Birds are prepared for."

~

Tim shocked everyone when he suited up for patrol with the rest of them. Bruce purposefully gave him the easiest route. Damian pulled Dick to the side earlier that evening and demanded he go with Tim. Only just having returned, he wasn't back on the team yet. Stephanie Brown was Robin.

Damian was glad it was Stephanie, and not anybody else, it would have hurt more to be replaced by someone entirely new, but he wished she was still Batgirl. Not that he was patrolling currently, but he wasn't thrilled to have Barbara in Stephanie's place (even if it was hers to begin with). Whenever his father let him be Robin again, Stephanie would go back to being Spoiler. The dynamic would be thrown off. They wouldn't be partners anymore.

That, and he found Barbara positively boring, which was what he told Dick on more than one occasion. And if anyone asked, that was the only reason Damian wanted Stephanie to be Batgirl again. 

No one got to leave the Cave, however, before a gunshot followed by the sound of shattering glass and Alfred and Damian shouting echoed down the elevator shaft. 

Batman, in his full uniform, bolted up the hidden stairway, the others on his heels, quite coincidentally, in age order. Red Robin thought momentarily that this would totally blow all of their covers and the location of the cave, but they weren't going to lose Damian again, identities be damned.

"Damian! Alf!" Batman called through the house. They quickly found the butler and the boy in the the middle of the ballroom, shotgun in the old man's hands. 

Alfred looked more irritated than frightened. Actually, he looked only irritated. "One man. He has a gun. He ran in here, I'm sure of it, but he's... vanished."

"'Vanished'?" Batman had a reason to be confused. The ballroom was against the left side of the house, and there was only one entrance, the double-doors they came through. The back wall was completely windows, windows that didn't open and were filling the room with light from the sunset. There was no place to "vanish" to.

"Are you sure he ran in here?" Nightwing asked, eyes scanning the room. 

Damian answered for them. "Yes. I blocked the way to the parlor, and Alfred was standing in the way of the library. Fa-Batman, we saw him go in here."

Those two rooms bordered the ballroom. If the gunman ran this way, the ballroom was his only option. 

"I believe you," Batman put a gloved hand on the boy's shoulder. Damian needed the reassurance. He was a mess when Bruce told him he couldn't be Robin, even if it was only until he healed up. It was a difficult for him mainly because his father didn't just mean physically, he meant mentally, too. And that took time, time he could spend ignoring all the hurt and pain he carried by smashing faces in for justice and letting all those emotions get bottled up into a tight painful weight that clung to his soul in a vice-like grip and slowly destroyed him. Or something like that; Tim didn't know. Anyway, it was hard for Damian right now.

"Even so," Red Hood said, walking the perimeter of the room, "he isn't here now. Which means he's either escaped an inescapable room, or he was never here."

"He was!" Damian protested. The breathiness in his tone was a good indicator that he was about to have another fit. He'd been having a lot of those since he came back; the frustration would morph into many different emotions before ending in panic. Alfred walked over quickly and pulled the boy against his side. "I swear I saw him!"

"You saw what you thought was a man run in here," Red Robin backed Hood, but kept his tone gentle. "He might have been an illusionist and could make it look like he ran in here."

Nightwing nodded. "Wouldn't be the first one we've come across. Batman?"

Batman had a deep frown showing below his mask. "An illusionist who's managed to get us all in the same place."

As if on cue, the doors slammed shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: pedophillia  
> Tw: attempted rape of a minor
> 
>  
> 
> It's twenty until New Years, and I'm exhausted. I'll go back in later and fix the formatting. This is a rewrite of what was the second chapter. Some tags are going to change because I've had new inspiration for this storyline. Please let me know if you see anything glaringly incorrect! :)

There was a heavy, uneasy silence across the ballroom. All eyes, masked or not, turned to Batman, waiting for him to give the plan.

Instead, Batman stomped towards the door muttering to himself “in my own damn house,” as if this was no biggie. The door wouldn’t budge when he pushed against it, and the knob was locked tight. He wasn’t looking forward to having to break down the doors he watched his father carve himself in the workshop out behind the mansion. But before he could start on that, bracing himself against the wood, the doors weren’t there anymore.

The ballroom wasn’t either. Gone in a blink, the boys found themselves standing in a dingy warehouse. Most of the fluorescent lightbulbs lined across the ceiling were out, and the ones that weren’t cast long shadows across the stacked crates, broken down boats, and the cracked cement floor. The sound of a loading-dock door opening had the group ducking behind the rows of boxes.

Voices carried loudly, echoing off of the metal walls. The distinctive sound of the ocean, seagulls, and of boats clanking against the dock resonated in the background—if they were still in Gotham, Red Robin bet they were at Port Adams.

Batman’s eyes flashed around the group behind his mask—Nightwing, Hood, Red, Damian, Alf. They were all here. How they got to the other end of Gotham in a flash—well, Batman’s working theory had something to do with The Flash—was a mystery.

“Firstly,” Nightwing whispered from where he was crouched next to Hood, “what the hell?”

Alfred gave him a small disapproving noise.

“Sorry, Alfie."

Hood would have rolled his eyes, but since no one could see his eyes, he didn’t put forth the effort. Instead, he put his most ADD brother (he only referred to them as his “brothers” in his head) back on track, “Secondly—“

“—Secondly,” the first cut back in again, giving Hood his usually, shit-eating grin. Red sighed, of course Dick was still smiley, even with the given circumstances. “What’s our move, B?”

“There’s a kid here,” Damian added softly from the other side of Hood. A glance over the boxes confirmed that he was right. A little kid, maybe seven, immediately tucked in between two of the crates like they were trying to blend in, disappear, and began pulling at their shoelaces. They had a mop of blonde curls that fell around their ears, and, in their too-big overalls and sneakers that may have once been white, the group couldn't tell if they were a boy or girl.

"Police don't fire if there’re kids in the building,” Hood answered, only to be countered by Red, crouched next to Batman.  
"That's not true."

Hood scoffed. "Nobody wants to be that cop who shot the little kid’s dad right in front of ‘em.” He dropped his voice, "Right, Dickie?"

"Guys, shut up," Batman interrupted. "Damian, Alfred, stay here, don't get in the way.” Nightwing thought to himself that maybe, someday, Bruce Wayne would be able to impart some advice about tact to Batman. It had been about twenty years and that had yet to happen, but maybe it could. “Red, get the kid out of the way. Nightwing, I need—"

He was cut-off by the booming voice of a man speaking into a phone. “Mister Kishimoto, you have made a great investment, I assure you.” The voice, clear, loud, and incredibly distinctive, had Batman and Red looking at each other.

“Arthur Brown,” Red explained for the rest, looking back out across the scene. Somewhere in the back of his mind pieces were starting to click together.

Arthur used to operate out of a warehouse at the Port. It didn’t make sense, though, because Steph was talking about when she was a kid…

“Yes, sir. All quality. You have my word. Arigatō. Oyasumi.” He flipped the phone closed. A flip-phone? Really? “Well, congratulations, gentleman,” he announced to his men, “after we load this shit up, we will be in with the Yakuza."

Well. That was that. And Red was seventy-five percent sure Stephanie had mentioned the Yakuza before…

“You mean after we load this shit up,” one of the men, the tall lanky one, said. "And you sit there."

“Relax, pal, drinks are on me. It's been a pleasure working with you, Dave and... whatever your name is," Brown continued, gesturing to the shortest goon with a sweeping hand. Arthur looked... younger than Red remembered him… And he didn’t have the—

“He doesn’t have the scars,” Alfred stated next to Red, further convincing Red that Alfred could, in fact, read minds. Batman didn’t look at him, but nodded his understanding.

Hood knitted his brows, "Wait, 'Brown'?"

"Yes," Red replied sharply, fighting the urge to roll his eyes and realizing how thin his patience had gotten. "Stephanie's father,” he said more calmly.

"So is the kid Stephanie?" Damian asked.

Nightwing gave him the "did-you-really-just-say-that-thing" look, a skill that they had all mastered, even with lensed masks. It was ironic, since it was usually leveled at Stephanie. "No, because Stephanie is nineteen, Damian."

“It’s two-thousand-five,” Damian replied matter-of-factly, put out by his partner’s condescending tone, nodding towards the back on the warehouse… and to a brightly lit office space that was half-orange and half-purple due to two different kinds of lightbulbs. Something Damian was slightly disappointed the others didn’t notice first. Hanging in the window was a calendar open to October, two-thousand… five. What were the odds that a calendar was left hanging like that for a decade?

“Stephanie would have been eight,” Damian elaborated. “She could have still been seven, the days aren’t marked off."

Red was surprised Damian knew that Stephanie’s birthday was in October. More that he cared to know.

Damian knew by the look on (what he could see) of Red Robin’s face that very fact. He fought the urge to say something snarky to him. He really did want to fix things between them, and they had started to get along before…

There was something wrong with Tim. He knew there was something wrong with Tim, and Stephanie knew it, too. And the others, his family, the people Tim loved, didn’t seem to notice, and it pissed him more than he could explain. But if they didn’t notice a lit office space a few yards away, how could they be expected to notice their child and brother hurting?

“Demon-brat, you alright?” Damian didn’t realize he was displaying his emotions on his face until Hood spoke to him, soft enough that nobody else heard it over their ongoing conversation—'What in the heck is going on?' 'I don’t know.' 'How did we get here?' I just said I don’t know.' 'I thought you were supposed the be the smart one.' 'Nightwing, I swear'—The irony of the situation was not lost on him: he makes a face, somebody immediately notices, Tim is miserable for a year, and they've yet to figure it out.

Damian refused to let himself scowl. Hood hadn’t asked him that because he was displaying weakness, he asked him out of genuine concern. One of the mantras he had to play in his head. “I’m fine.”

Jason would be the next one to figure out something was wrong with Tim. Damian was sure of that. And his father would be the last. Also sure of that.

Hood nodded his understanding, turning back to the scene.

Nightwing turned to Hood. “This doesn’t make any sense. Is this the Multiverse?”

Hood sighed laboriously. “No, ass-head, not how the Multiverse works, and please stop asking questions, nobody knows what’s going on."

"Bill, do me a favor, take Stevie back home." Arthur brushed past his daughter, and she flinched sharply. Batman now noticed the varying colors of bruises on her thin arms, eyes narrowing to slits behind his mask-lenses. "We'll be at the Iceberg."

“Are we just gonna let 'em walk out of here, B?” Hood asked. “Because ‘Bill' looks like the biggest pedo ever, and we can’t leave him with… the kid.” It couldn’t be Stephanie. Could it?

Batman spoke "Wait for the rest to leave, then we'll take him out."

"The four of us can take them—"

"—The kid could get hurt in the confusion."

So they waited, watching firstly, Brown set what looked like a business card on a crate, then he and his two goons leave.

Bill watched them leave with a smirk that made Batman's stomach flip. He was over the crates in a second, combat boots landing with soft thud on the other side. The floor seemed very slick for being concrete, but he wasn't paying attention to that. He crept over to the goon, went to yank him back by the coat collar, but—

His hand went through the other man. His hand went through him. Bill didn't even notice Batman's fist go through his neck.

"So I guess daddy left me to babysit," the greasy man said to Stephanie, who was staring with eyes big as saucers. He grinned in a sleazy way that showed all his teeth. "That's okay, though. We always have fun, don't we?"

Bill took one step towards the kid, and she let out a terrified, ear-piercing scream. She got on her feet and slipped in between the crates behind her. The opening was too small for the man to fit through. Bill swore under his breath, walking around the crates.

The goon shoved the crates out of the way, yanking Stephanie out of her hiding spot by her hair. "None'a that, sweetie."

Stephanie punched him in the nuts, a took off toward the back of the warehouse as he folded over his knees.

Batman stood from his crouch, aiming a sucker-punch for the back of Bill's head before he could go after the girl, but his fist went through him, again. The power behind his arm threw him forward, and he should have tripped over the boxes, maybe run into Bill, but he didn't. He went through them. And Bill didn't seem to notice, again.

Red hopped up and raced after Stephanie, cautiously called out her name. "Steph? Stephanie?"

She didn't slow down, and she didn't look back. She hadn't heard him.

Just like the first shift, they hadn't noticed a change until it had already happened. Red was still ahead of the group, but only by a few feet; they had moved. They weren't at the front of the warehouse anymore. The office space was way behind them, and they were now standing among the boxes. It was as if they were... following Stephanie?

Even as fast as she was, Stephanie couldn’t outrun the nasty beast of a man, and he quickly caught up to her, clubbing her in the back of the head with his forearm and sending her face-first into the cement floor.

Batman nearly roared, after the man again—how dare he hit a child like that? A child that was about the age of a little boy he’d first seen at a circus, and child that would grow up to be his partner—but, just as before, his swings did nothing, and his fists met empty air.

“B, stop it,” Red called to him. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Batman turned to him panting, jaw locked in a scowl. But Red was right, this was all beyond their control. All they could do was watch.

But not Damian. Batman stepped briskly toward his youngest son, pressing his round face against his abdomen. If what he feared would happen was about to, he couldn’t let him see it.

Bill knelt to the floor and flipped Stephanie over onto her back, yanking at the fasteners on her overalls. She had blood running from her nose and tears streaming down her cheeks, but she still kicked and screamed like hell, fighting him with as much power she could.

“Shaddup,” Bill snarled, ruthlessly backhanding her across the face. Red had to look away; he couldn’t watch this. Nightwing was next to him in three strides, placing a comforting hand on the back of his neck, and Red leaned slightly against him.

Pure fire burned in Alfred’s eyes. He'd always had a paternal-like fondness for Stephanie, and watching this was breaking his heart. Glancing over to Hood, Alfred noticed, though he looked just as angry as the rest of them, he wasn’t surprised. The man knew that Hood understood these types of happenings firsthand. He didn’t touch the young man, but he moved closer to him, and for that, Hood was grateful.

It was impossible to shutdown on the scene with Stephanie screaming and the horrific knowledge of what was about to happen. With Stephanie fighting him, Bill couldn’t get her legs out of her pants, but that just made him hit her again. Batman dropped to a knee, pulling Damian’s face against his shoulder and rocking him gently. Stephanie meant a lot to him, and he was scared for her, whether or not Damian showed it. He was pretty sure his son just shut down. It was a crying shame that he'd gotten so good at that.

“What the hell is going on here?” Arthur Brown appeared behind them, voice chillingly calm. Relief flooded through Red, mostly because he now understood what was going on. Stephanie had told him about this before, and he hadn’t put it together because it didn’t make sense that they were seeing it at all.

There was no hiding what Bill was doing. He was on top of Brown’s child, pants undone, trying to rip her clothes off. Arthur must have heard Stephanie screaming and came after them.

Bill fumbled away, trying to hook his pants and get as far away from Stephanie and her father as he could. Brown knelt down gently and gathered his terrified and bleeding daughter into his arms. He stood slowly, murmuring comforts to his child as she sobbed.

“You should probably go grab that drink with the boys, maybe a lot of ‘em,” his voice was emotionless, but his face showed utter disgust. “And call your mother.”

With that, Arthur strode away from the stunned, dirty excuse for a man. He wouldn’t make it to next week, he knew.

“‘M s-sorry,” Stephanie mumbled into her father’s chest. Pain laced each syllable, and if Arthur said anything cruel to her, Jason would find him and snap his neck as soon as this bad trip was over.

Luckily for him, he didn’t. “It’s not your fault, Stevie. It’s mine, completely mine.”

Everything was gone in a blink. They were all there, standing in the ballroom, and it was dark outside.

 

~

"What sort of operation is this guy running?" Robin asked, scanning the list of suspects Harley had sitting among various stacks of papers on a folding table at the front of the auditorium. None of them seemed like viable suspects—well, Talia was on it, and Robin knew from experience that the woman was capable of anything she set her mind to. Literally. Well, anything except maintaining a healthy relationship with a son who so desperately craved her acceptance.

"He's in the business of exposing secrets," Harley explained. Like Arthur. Why wasn't he a suspect? She saw his file among the mess. A mess that was really screwing with her OCD. "And he dropped some bombshells recently. He started out actually pretty helpful. Exposing dirty cops, cheating spouses, and such. Dropped anonymous tips to the gossip column for the Globe. Then he escalated. He posted the ten-year LexCorp business plan to the WE forum."

Robin already knew about that. Luthor tried to sue WE, even after Tim deleted the post, and Bruce personally explained the situation in an hours-long phone conference. The post was made using an anonymous account from an untraceable IP address. The suing, of course, fell through. Bruce's attorneys tore the other man apart.

"He claims now that he has government secrets that are sure to cause an uproar of they hit the public. Now Washington's paying him off. I don't know how the whole money-transfer thing works, but apparently he can't be tracked that way."

Robin crossed her arms. "So he hides behind a computer screen? I think I know of a couple people who would be more helpful in this department than I am. And how exactly do you know about Washington?"

Her first question was pointedly ignored. "That's just the thing! He doesn't always hide." Harley flipped through the files vigorously until she found the sheet she was looking for. "See there? He stapled the access codes to the Arkham security system on the wall inside the jail."

"Hospital."

"Sure it is. The bulletin board that this was stapled to was in a common room in the high security area. No access without three different codes, one of them changes weekly, a card, and a fingerprint scanner. Not to mention he would have had to find a way to bypass the guards or an alias that would hold up against background checks. No one unusual was caught on any of the cameras, and none of the guards remember seeing anyone other than the usual employees. The sign being posted isn't on camera. It was just suddenly there." After a moment, she added, "Twelve staff and two crazies died."

Robin bit the inside of her cheek. "And you're certain this is the same guy?"

"He took credit for it, at least." So no.

"Are you sure it wasn't someone already on the inside? An employee?"

"On that day at that particular time, anyone who would've had the clearance has an alibi. Every last person was caught on a different camera in a different part of the building. Nobody was even on the floor, and there was no record of any change in the system."

"What are the names of the people who do have that kind of clearance?"

"Five people: three psychologists—Dr. Angela Yung, Dr. Joanne Keller, and Dr. Ian Howard—then the chief of security, Johnson, and the mayor, of course. All caught on camera, and the mayor was in Monaco on vacation with his wife. Anniversary, fifteen years."

Robin frowned. “Hady’s corrupt, and he’s got lots of friends in low places. Are you sure he’s in Monaco?”

“Along with the plane and hotel purchases on his credit card, we have a pricey prostitute and big bar tab to corroborate it."

Robin wondered if it was Hady or his wife that ordered the hooker or ran up the bar tab. She kind of hope Mrs. Hady ordered the hooker. At any rate, Hady wouldn't have any real reason to fuck around in Arkham, he was just a shifty sort of guy who did the shadiest sorts of things, and Robin wouldn't mind seeing him locked away, or at least kicked from office. But she wouldn't put the wrong man in jail. Hady's crimes would catch up with him.

“My money's still on one of the employees. He sounds like he's into the sort of stuff Ridder and Cluemaster," Robin almost choked on the word, "get into. Organizing heists and such, I mean. He'd have to have incredible computer skills to hack the Arkham network, but I've seen it done before. It isn't impossible to get in and change things around... I'll bet he works for whoever does the tech for Arkham. He could get the access codes that way, too."

Harley was already glad to have Robin involved. ”Then we'll need to run background checks on everyone in Tech."

"Yes. Focus on people who've been all over the building before or have been caught chatting with the patients."

"Inmates."

"Whatever." Robin flipped back to a legal pad where a list of potential targets was written in a neat hand. "Why do you think the Wayne's are targets? Wasn't the LexCorp leak to help the only competition?"

Harley leaned back against the handicap railing. "Maybe. We think it was more of a warmup for this guy to see just what kind of damage he could do. Helping WE was just a side affect. Apart from the Wayne's being disgustingly rich," ain't that the truth, "they are, ya know, Batman and Robin. 'Scuse me, Red Robin."

Joker knew who Batman was. He'd known since Jason died. It wouldn't have been too difficult to see the correlation between Bruce Wayne and his ward and Batman and Robin. The current Robin figured out long ago that Bruce Wayne was Batman and whichever boy was living with him was Robin. It seemed retrospectively so ridiculously obvious that she couldn't believe they managed to keep everybody fooled. But then again, Clark Kent, and goddamn alien, just through on a pair of glasses ...

Robin knew that Harley knew who the boys all were; Joker, she assumed told her. Harley had slipped up before and called her “Stephanie,” but Robin didn't know if Joker knew who she was or Harley figured it out on her own. Joker wouldn't have know about Tim had Bruce not adopted him, so she didn't think Joker caught on to her yet.

"They got a lot of money to spare if this guy decides to blackmail them. And they'll always have money to spare."

“Yeah, I guess there’s that. But how would this..?"

“The Illusionist,” Harley supplied.

“‘The Illusionist’?” Robin repeated. “Why hasn’t anybody figured out that if you give a crazy a moniker, they do more crazy shit?”

Harley couldn’t agree more.

“Anyway,” Robin continued, “how would ‘The Illusionist’ know that about B and Red?”

“I didn’t tell him, if that’s what you’re implying. Neither did Jack.” Okay, it was weird hearing Joker referred to by a real name. “We don’t even know who he is.”

“I wasn’t implying anything.” Robin spoke again after a beat. “Who are you working for, Harleen?” She obviously wasn’t doing this on her own. She enjoyed chaos like this too much to want to extinguish it.

Harley faltered, back stiffening, eyes turning grave. She was scared of whoever this was.

Robin kept her voice soft, placing a hand on the taller woman’s thin arm. “Did they tell you to find me?”

“Not exactly. They told me to find help, and help that wouldn’t rat us out.” Harley sighed heavily. “So..?”

“Harley, I can’t get involved here. Not anymore than I already am.” Robin took a step back, faking a grin. “You should really get in touch with Batgirl anyway, she has the tech skills that you probably need for all this.”

“I don’t trust Batgirl,” she said seriously. “I trust you. And we need the help of people we can trust.”

She kept saying 'we.' “Okay, who is 'we'?"

“Remember what I said about you needing to trust me?”

Robin shouldn't hear anymore. She shouldn't get caught up in this. She needed to talk to Batman first.

"I'm sorry, Harleen," Robin said decidedly, backing away from the table and Harley, and out of the auditorium. "And I'm sorry for whatever situation you're in. I'll talk to B; we'll try to find some way to help you."

"But Steph—"

"I'm sorry, Harley. I can't do this without my partner."

'Can't' was a bit of a stretch; 'won't' (wouldn't) was more accurate. Her refusal has nothing to do with a lack of ability. She and Batman were partners now, again, and she'd been very clear with B that this new arrangement would only work if he kept her informed and involved in every case. She wouldn't be a hypocrite and go it alone herself.

But Harley was adamant that no one else be involved. So she left.

Robin reconnected the comm link as she walked out of the Monarch. "Hey, Proxy, you got me?"

A gravelly voice came over the comm. "Yeah, and I hope you're not busy right now."

"Trouble?"

"Drug pushers over by the Wayne Industries backdoor."

The "backdoor" were the factory buildings that weren't turning a profit, weren't producing anything, but were apparently "operational." If Bruce had a use for them (and this was Bruce, so he did), he hadn't clued the rest of the birds into it. But that was nothing that Tim and a couple hours worth of system-hacking couldn't fix. But Robin really didn't want to ask anything else of Tim.

"I'm on it."


End file.
